


Michael's Turn

by mightbeanasshole



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: M/M, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 21:10:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5105840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mightbeanasshole/pseuds/mightbeanasshole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael confesses a fetish during a vulnerable moment. Instead of being disgusted, Geoff considers what he could do with this new information.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Michael's Turn

**Author's Note:**

> My hand slipped. Companion piece to: http://archiveofourown.org/works/5097665 ("The Gang Tases Michael")

“OK, your turn,” Geoff says.

They’re in an LA hotel room -- neither one able to fall asleep in the unfamiliar setting. It had been a long day of recording and joking with Funhaus, falling into a groove with them, and it produced the sort of social stimulation that had both men drinking a little too much back at the hotel, a little too pleased and manic to fall asleep later that night, even after sex.

They’d broken into the mini bar. And Geoff had been the first to start babbling out secrets.

“You fuckin’... you pinky swear me you’re not gonna judge, Geoff?” Michael asks.

Geoff holds out his hand, pinky extended. The curtains are only half-drawn and Geoff can see the light reflecting off of Michael’s eyes there in the king bed -- everything washed in grays in the midnight dimness.

“Dude, how could I judge,” Geoff says as Michael hesitates. “I got a hard-on watching you get electrocuted and I just _told_ you about it.”

Michael puffs a laugh.

“OK, but I had a hard-on too so we’re kind of even on that one,” Michael says.

He crooks his pinky into Geoff’s, though, and they clench their hands like that for a beat before breaking. Geoff strokes a hand down Michael’s naked side.

“This had better not be some vanilla bullshit-ass secret, Jones,” Geoff says.

“It’s _not_ ,” Michael says, going a little defensive. “It’s weird.”

“Hit me with it.”

“So. You ever heard of WAM?”

He says it like “wham” and Geoff has to stifle a joke about George Michael.

“No,” Geoff says. “‘Wham’ is a... sex thing?”

“W-A-M. It stands for,” and Michael pauses here for a few seconds, “... _wet and messy_.”

“Wet and messy?” Geoff echoes. “Michael Jones, that’s you all over.”

“Whaddya mean?” Michael says -- and Geoff can hear the edge of defensiveness in his voice. He curls the hand on Michael’s flank into the skin there, dragging him a little closer while he scoots across the bed to close the gap.

“I’m gonna wager a guess that it involves getting a boner off being covered in a bunch of wet and messy bullshit,” Geoff says.

“Yeah,” Michael says, a little breathy as their bodies meet. “You nailed it.”

“So… you get hard off that?”

“You have no idea, Geoff.”

Geoff raises an eyebrow in the dark -- a force of habit, even though Michael can’t see him.

“Uh, I think I might have _some_ idea,” Geoff says. “I’ve worked with you for… what… four plus years now?”

“It’s that obvious?” Michael asks, sounding dismayed.

“Not at all,” Geoff says. “But… Well, in light of this new information. Maybe a little.”

Michael sighs in the dark and Geoff is quick to stroke his cheek.

“Hey -- I mean, if I didn’t put two and two together before you said something, I’m sure nobody else has yet,” Geoff says.

“Sure you weren’t just distracted by your sadistic pain boners?”

“OK, listen…”

“I’m listening,” Michael says through a smile.

“Fuck you.”

And there is a pause then -- like so many pauses recently where neither man has much to say but both are thinking about how lucky they are, how much they adore the other one.

It’s Geoff who breaks the silence.

“So… the eggnog wrestling,” Geoff says, trailing off.

“Yeah,” Michael says. “Definitely. I mean, I gotta be real here: eggnog isn’t exactly my style because it’s a little watery, but… All I can say is that singlet was un-for-fucking-giving. And Chris is a true gentleman for not saying anything.”

Geoff snorts.

“Oh god,” Geoff says. “And before that…. Christ, Miles and the ketchup?”

“Not as terrible since I wasn’t wearing a fucking boner-revealing singlet, but…” Michael says. “Yeah. That was a _thing_.”

“Christ, we really put you through the… the ‘WAM’ ringer those first few months,” Geoff says, trying out the term.

“I put _myself_ through it,” Michael says. “I’m a fuckin’ creep.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Geoff says, stroking a hand through his hair. “You’re not a creep. I’m pretty sure we all would’ve still done that shit even if we knew you got off on it.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean… I guess I can’t speak for the whole staff,” Geoff says. “ _I’d_ definitely have sprayed you with ketchup if I’d have known it’d get you off.”

Michael exhales sharply.

“What is it about it?” Geoff asks, trying to sound fond and tender -- because he really does want to know. “I mean, if you can put it into words.”

“It’s just the feeling -- I don’t know,” Michael says. “When there’s something all over you… It’s movement and pressure and temperature… It’s like normal sense of touch but enhanced…. Like -- I mean, imagine suddenly your whole body is an erogenous zone?”

And Geoff can imagine it. Maybe it helps that he’s still got a whiskey buzz and a post-orgasmic haze and is in a non-judgmental mental zone here with Michael in the soft sheets -- but it’s distinctly easy to imagine.

He thinks of _being_ Michael -- young and lean and full of energy -- and he thinks of being covered in _something_. The way a viscous fluid -- something as benign as ketchup -- might feel like a second skin sliding over his own skin. The way his skin would react to the temperature difference -- prickling in goosebumps with something cold, going warm and pliant under something hot, or even the uncanny feeling of a thick, soft substance being slathered over his skin at room temperature.

“I… think I get it,” Geoff says.

“Yeah?” Michael asks, unable to keep the hopeful edge out of his voice.

“I can definitely use my imagination.”

And now Geoff is thinking about how it wouldn’t matter, in the end, if Michael had a partner because his own limbs sliding over his own skin would feel slick and pleasant.

How layers of clothes sticking to his body between Michael and the mess might feel good too -- clinging to every ridge of muscle, every stiff outcrop of bone, every sensitive, pale plane of Michael’s entire body.

But it would be better with a partner -- and not just Chris, not just someone doing it for a video and a laugh. A partner who could understand what it meant to Michael…

“Is that something you’d want to do with me?” Geoff asks quietly. Almost inaudible.

There is a long pause and something pulses there in the dark between them.

“Nah, I mean...” Michael says. “I mean. It’d just be weird and gross for you.”

“It wouldn’t,” Geoff protests quickly.

Because Geoff is already thinking of it. He’s already jumped forward to figuring out the logistics of it -- where they could do it in Geoff’s house, what Geoff would use, how he’d watch Michael’s expressions change.

He could really get it right for Michael. Not some bullshit public filming, either. Privacy and an endless amount of whatever it is that Michael wanted. How he’d assure Michael that he didn’t need to worry about cleanup. How instead of street clothes or some stupid singlet, Michael would know that this time he could be undressed. He could really get the full deal with Geoff -- with hands that would undress Michael, would do whatever Michael wanted…

Geoff imagines how hard Michael would get off that first time after years of ignoring it.

Hell, maybe the kid had fantasized about this through his entire adult life. Maybe Geoff is the first person he’s ever told about it.

There weren’t a lot of First Times left between the two of them. But this could be one, couldn’t it?

And Geoff’s heart is pumping faster now just at the thought of being able to give this to Michael.

Because no -- it’s not something Geoff could get off to by himself -- but goddamn there was nothing in this world like pleasing Michael. And that? That was most definitely something he could get off to.

“I don’t know,” Michael says, shaking Geoff out of his own thought. “I’d never want to make you uncomfortable.”

His voice is shrinking and his body seems to shrink there in Geoff’s arms. _Christ, he’s embarrassed,_ Geoff realizes. Even after all Geoff had confessed to him -- tonight and all the nights before tonight -- Michael is embarrassed by this.

It couldn’t be more endearing. Geoff begins to cover every inch of Michael’s face with dry kisses, holding him still as Michael tries to squirm out of his arms.

“Hey!” Michael protests. “C’mon -- fuck you.”

“I’d do way weirder shit for you -- you know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Michael says with a resigned sigh. “I guess your old ass would.”

“Like exponentially weirder shit,” Geoff says. “I’d participate in fetishes I don’t even begin to understand if it gets you off.”

“Really sweepin’ me off my feet with the romance here, boss,” Michael says, yawning.

“Yeah yeah,” Geoff says, placing a last kiss in the middle of his forehead. “Fuck you.”


End file.
